


The Lost Light

by serendipityspeaks



Series: Broken Kingdom [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, High Fantasy, Magic, Multi, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Penis In Vagina Sex, Penis Size, Porn With Plot, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Sex Magic, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 08:22:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17742392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipityspeaks/pseuds/serendipityspeaks
Summary: Beginning in 5492 A.D., this story occurs about 5,000 years after the end of the previous one.  Rather than centering around the queen, it takes a closer look at the second of the three pillars - the lumietra.  The Korianans, freed from their prison, have re-integrated into society, the larger human culture subsuming their own and their power diminishing.  Their language, central to their magic, becomes lost over time and with it goes their connection to the planet.  Their technical prowess rises, resulting in a technology so advanced it might as well be magic.  But the lack of magical connection is dangerous to them, and their species is dwindling.  More and more of their people are sterile.  Can the queen and the lumietra come together long enough to save their species, even in the face of the machinations of the anilumietra? And what of the third of the three pillars - the Jumper? And what is Danae's legacy?





	1. Prologue - Alorra

**Author's Note:**

> There are many, many changes from the previous book. 5,000 years is a long time. Cultural mixing has changed much, and even their biology is a little different due to changes wrought by Danae at the end of the previous book. This is actually the one I started writing first, weirdly enough. Danae was just a story they told. 
> 
> Also, there is a torture scene in the prologue. It's not...gratuitous, it's more the last at the end of a long torture, but it's still there.

“What year is it?,” the voice was female.  Terrible, almost screeching. The owner of the voice had a hand in my hair, holding my head up by its roots.  

In an impressive display of cognizance, I managed to dredge the answer up out of my brain.  Trust me, if you knew me, this would be impressive,”5492. After Danae.” 

“Very good.  Still with me, I see,” she says a few words in our language, casting a spell.  

I feel her magic lance through me, pins and needles running through my veins.  I don’t particularly like pain, and so I make some noise. It’s a healing spell, though, so it doesn’t hurt for long.  My hair hangs in greasy stings in front of my eyes, matted with my own sweat and blood, and I’ve never wanted a shower so badly.  One of my eyes is gone, and I can feel the rib bones pressing against my lungs. Still, I breath, because I know it’s all I can do.  She has trapped me here, and I can do nothing except breathe, and talk. Her brand of healing can be exhausting, and I’m not allowed to sleep.  

My captor is walking away, her movements graceful, her slim body clad in black leather.  She looks so clean, barely a spot on her, and no blood stands out against the moon-kissed pale of her skin, or in the shining, pastel lavender of her hair.  So often I’ve seen cruelty in those bleached blue eyes of hers, but now she looks thoughtful. She sits in a chair, and somehow manages to make skin-tight leather look comfortable.  Next to her is some food, and something to drink. She’s been using it to taunt me. 

Her voice is still grating to me, but it’s probably because she’s my torturer, “Tell me what the Queen is looking for, and I’ll let you go.” 

She wouldn’t; we both knew it.  I was done with suffering though, and so I was going to tell her what I needed to, if it would end it.  One last nudge to keep the Void at bay, “Did your mother ever tell you the story of The Wanderers?” 

She frowned, “Yes.  The story of the people who helped our ancestors build the world.”  

“It’s true.  Well, mostly.  It’s become rather changed over the years, but it’s true.  They came from far away to a barren world, and shaped it in their image.  We found them and helped them do it--” 

“Yes, yes and our ancestors stayed behind, creating all of the other humanoid species” she waved a hand dismissively.  

“The stories of the black knights and the faceless ones are true,” I hadn’t seen it first hand, but I’d gone back and watched it.  My predecessor was there. 

“What does it matter? Danae killed them all.”  

“That she did.  But the legacy of all three remains.  The Wanderers, the Korianan, and the Myraken.”  

“Riddles.  Speak plainly.”  

“The bones of the world, the thing that binds us - the thing that makes you and your sister what you are - remains.  And it needs our attention. The queen realizes this, and she seeks it.” 

“She seeks the bones of the world?”  

“Yes.  She seeks what gives us all our power.”  

“Where is it?” 

I smile a red, broken, feral smile, “I’ve told you all you need.  I will say no more. The time has come for you to end it.” 

She is up and on me in a flash, a cold steel knife in her hand.  The end is coming for me, I think. The sharp tip presses against my chest, between my ribs, in the spot over my heart.  I hope that it doesn’t hurt. I’ve never been afraid of death, but I really don’t like pain. 

She’s very close to me when she speaks, and I feel the knife start to slide into my flesh.  It’s very sharp, and I part before it like melting snow. I suck in my last breaths, hyperventilating.  I am only sorry that her grating voice is the last thing that I hear, “You knew this was coming, didn’t you.”  

I don’t answer, but I don’t need to.  She knows that I did. 

“I am ending you, finally, Alorra,” her knife has sunk deeper, and deeper.  She seems to enjoy the sensation. I, however, do not. Luckily, there’s too much adrenaline.  I’ve been in too much pain, and the knife is very sharp. I also cast one last small spell on myself, making that part of my body less vulnerable to pain.  It doesn’t hurt as badly as it could. 

Finally, the blade pierces my heart, its frantic fluttering causing the muscle to tear itself to shreds on the blade.  There’s only one thing left to say, and I look her in the eyes to say it, because I already know it’s true, “You’ll see me again, bitch.”  

She rips the blade from my chest, blood splattering against the wall.  I’m dying in earnest, blood gushing out of the hole left by the knife. She, knowing I am no longer a threat, releases the magic bonds on me.  I stand for a moment, because I want to die with dignity. Finally though, I can no longer take the strain. I slide to the ground, where I lay.  I watch the pool of blood expanding from my limp, prone body, and the world goes slowly dark. I see, before the end, a small black dragon statue under her chair, and I smile.  It means I did my last task already. The world finally slips away, and so do I. 

My soul rushes up, joining the stars and, after living thousands of lifetimes, I am free.  


	2. 5468 A.D. - Flehtar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poor, sad mother gives birth to a little girl she doesn't want and can't keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic description of birth, and a mention of rape.

I huddled in a corner, shaking in pain.  Rain water dripped down from the lattice work of rusty iron fire escapes above me, carrying gods-knew-what with it.  A drop landed on the top of my head, tumbling down the surface of my skull, itching as it caught every hair along the way.  The wind blew, carrying the stench of garbage from the nearby trash bins. The smell was made worse by the blistering hot, humid summer night.  If I wasn’t in such pain, I would have gagged. 

None of this, though, was my primary concern.  Eleven months ago, when I was fourteen, my uncle had once again been an unwelcome visitor in the middle of the night.  I tried to tell my mom, but she just said ‘Amelia, it’s not nice to tell lies about Uncle Matt’ and he kept visiting. Now I was fifteen, and the pain ripping through my belly told me that it was time to deal with the consequences of those visits.  I’d tried to make it to the hospital, I really had, but I’d been too late. I had to settle for the most sheltered spot I could find, laboring on my own. 

It had been hours of labor, trying to make it to a hospital, and now I could feel the baby’s head crowning.  I reached down between my legs and touched the slimy top of the head just to confirm what the pain already told me.  I moved into a crouching position, hovering over the pile of blankets that I’d made. It was the best I could do, and I needed to be able to catch the baby.  

Another labor pain, and I obeyed my body’s demands to push.  The pains didn’t stop, and I pushed again. The head came out, then the body, all in one smooth rush.  The baby started crying almost immediately, and I gave a grateful sigh. I concentrated, and used a small bit of magic to cut and cauterize the umbilical cord.  A few more pains and the afterbirth was out. There was just one more thing to do before this nightmare was over and I could leave Flehtar and go to Keehleyhan. Away from uncle Matt.

I rested a few minutes and then pulled the final blanket out of my pack, wrapping it around the baby.  It was blisteringly hot, but for some reason the fool little thing was shivering. Stupid baby. Stupid uncle Matt.  It even looked like him, all pale and weird. 

I cleaned myself up the best I could, tugging her clothes back into place, and walked across the street.  There, the lights of a firehouse beckoned. They would take the child under the safe haven laws that existed in Kelly.  I could leave the little girl there, and surely the incessant squalling would bring someone. 

I scuttled across the street and up to the large hatch in the wall.  Lifting it, I deposited the baby inside. Relief flowed through me. I shut it and, without a backwards glance, ran towards the nearest transpo.  It was over. It was finally over and I was free. I wanted to cry with relief. My parents and uncle need never know. No one ever needed to find out.  I never would have to think about those nights and uncle Matt ever again. Finally, relieved of my burden, my life could begin. 

 

*******

 

We stood in the hallway of the adoption center, looking through a glass window.  Next to them was the adoption agent. A short woman with dark hair, a smart suit, and an easy smile.  She had the perfect demeanor for this job. She nodded and smiled when she saw us and said, “Good afternoon Gina, Anthony.”  

“Which one is she?,” I asked, bypassing the small talk and anxiously searching the crowd of tiny, squishy faces.  We’d been waiting for this day for years. We, like every other korianan we knew, experienced fertility problems. We could easily have gotten a human baby, but instead we held out, waiting for one of our own kind.  

“There, that’s her,” the adoption agent said, pointing,”Second row, third from the left.”  

I spotted her.  A tiny, pale thing, with the blue eyes of a newborn.  She looked around the room in interest, one of the few babies not crying.  She didn’t seem to feel alone, or if she did, she wasn’t bothered by it. I was already in love.  I knew she was mine. 

“Can we go hold her?,” Anthony asked.  

“Certainly,” the agent responded.  She walked over and opened the door, motioning for us to follow.  We did, entering a room painted in a cheerful light yellow, shoes squeaking on sterile plastic floors.  There were several rocking chairs scattered throughout the room. I was somewhat uncomfortably reminded of the room we’d met our puppy in when we went to the pound to adopt him.  

We took two chairs that faced each other, and the agent went into the room full of babies.  She returned a few minutes later with the wiggling little bundle, and placed her in my arms.  I looked down, into the baby’s eyes, and smiled. The warm weight of her felt right in my arms, and she yawned, smushing her face against the blanket.  Her eyes fluttered shut. 

“How old is she?,” said Anthony.  

“Only a few days,” responded the agent, “She was left in one of the safe haven boxes in the Carpithian quarter.”  

I closed my eyes for a second, my heart hurting for the tiny, abandoned being.  The Carpithian area of the city was a mess. The Carpithian tribes were nomads, owning their section of the city only by virtue of owning the land.  They never were in residence there, and without a permanent police or guard presence, that section of the city had long been home to some of the worst criminal elements in all of Kelly.  I tried to imagine the kind of desperation that would drive someone to give birth there and abandon the baby. I couldn’t, and I realized how lucky that made me. 

I held the baby closer, inhaling the scent of her.  I nuzzled the tiny, soft cheek and looked down at her eyes, “No one will ever abandon you again.  I promise.” 

“Well,” said Anthony, looking at the adoption agent and smiling, “I think we’re going to keep her.  Honey, what do you want to name her?” 

Without looking up from the baby I replied, “Briya.  She looks like a Briya.” 


	3. 5479 A.D. - Sariah, Keehlayhan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In one night, Sariah's life changes forever. From here forward, everything she does is shaped by loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex, no descriptions of violence, but there is sadness. Well, I guess it was sad for me since I actually wrote this long after I'd finished the first draft, lol.

“Sariah!,” my mother yelled across the Bazaar, “Time to go!”.  

“Coming!,” I yelled back.  I put down the sunglasses I had in my hand, and turned towards her voice.  It was only a moment before I spotted her red hair and saw her, standing between stalls and waiting for me, “What did you get?” 

“Only some things for dinner,” she replied as we turned and started walking towards home.  The afternoon was warm, but not hot, with a breeze coming off of the harbor. It ruffled my hair as my mother and I wandered through the streets.  The sun shone down, but not oppressively so, and we took their time walking back to our building. 

Unlike many of our kind, my mom chose not to live at court.  She worked at court, she said, she liked to be away from it when she was home.  She had no taste for the hive that swirled around the queen. She said that court was the worst when the queen was growing, before she’d had a chance to apply a firm hand.  This one was a little older than me, almost at her majority. I knew because after work my mother would often come home and say, in frustration, ‘I cannot wait for the day that queen Kithandra is old enough to actually rule!’.  

We lived, instead, in a high rise in the center of the city.  It was a huge structure of steel and glass, the sides waving and undulating, with green gardens built into the sides.  They green helped keep our air clear, although in fairness we’d stopped polluting it with mechanical things centuries ago.  

We entered the front doors as they slid open for us, climate control swirling around my ankles under my sundress.  I didn’t bother looking around the lobby because I’d seen it a million times, instead heading for the elevators out of habit.  I hummed a song to myself, standing next to my mother and behind another man who was waiting to get on. I stared idly at his long black hair.  It was nice, so smooth and shiny. I was jealous, my thick red waves were never that smooth. I got my mom’s pretty color, but the texture from my dad.  The black doors of the elevator slid open, and we all got in. He was first, touching the finger pad and pressing the floor for the penthouse. 

“Floor?,” he asked politely.  I looked at him, and noticed that he wasn’t much taller than I was.  It must suck to be that short as a grown-up. 

“Twenty-three,” my mother replied with a polite smile.  He punched the button, and the doors closed. 

After a moment he said, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean be rude, but are you Carlotta Teyregon?” 

“I am,” she said.  My mother is a famous Adiyan, so it wasn’t weird that someone rich enough to live in a penthouse recognized her.  I always tried to ignore the strangers that talked to her, so I whipped out my comm and started playing a game. 

“Huge fan of your work,” he replied.  He wasn’t gushing or anything, so I guess that was good.  Sometimes they got really creepy about it. Some people have no boundaries.  Of course, my mother can defend herself, even if she’s so skinny that it doesn’t look like it.  I don’t take after her, I take after my father - I’m all pudge and rounded corners. I hate it, nothing ever fits.  I want to look like my mother. 

I played my game an texted a friend while she made smalltalk with the man, and then stepped off the elevator when we got to our floor.  She said goodbye to him and I didn’t bother with a polite wave, instead heading down the hallway to our place. 

“Hey dad! We’re home!,” I yelled into the apartment as we entered.  My mom went into the kitchen to put the groceries away, and I found my father in the living room.  I flopped down onto the couch next to him. 

“Hey,” he said, pretending he wasn’t sleeping moments before I walked in, “get anything good?” 

“Just groceries.” 

“Why don’t you help your mother put them away?” 

“It’s like five things, she’ll be fine,” I grabbed the remote and switched on the TV.  The show he’d been watching before his nap came on. Science fiction about space travel, “Oooo,  _ Explorers _ .”  

“It’s been on all day, they’re replaying the whole series,” there was a sly smirk at the corner of his mouth.  A little bit of pride. We’d been watching the show together since I was a kid, and I held my hand up. He high fived me, and my mom walked in.  

“Hey babe, don’t forget that we’ve got that thing tonight,” she said, standing near the TV.  I only paid half attention, because she wasn’t talking to me. 

“Which thing?,” he asked.  

“Emmy was bonded last night, remember?,” Emmy was my mother’s protege.  

“Oh, right, right.  Her first night party.  You running low?”

“Yeah, lower than I’d like.”  

“Ok.  Sorry kid, I’ve got to go get ready,” he stood up.  

“It’s cool, we can always watch it later,” The left the room and I kept watching.  It was going to take my mom at least an hour to get ready, and I wasn’t even hungry yet.  

True to form, they came back out more than an hour later.  My mom was wearing a sheath dress made entirely of tiny pieces of purple metal linked together.  It was cut low in the back, with a small train. I liked the slithering noise the metal made as she walked.  My dad trailed behind her, wearing his diayan black, armed to the teeth. Her shadow. Her protector. Someday I’d have my own.  I smiled at them when they came out. 

“As usual, you guys look great,” I stood up to walk them out.  

“Remember honey, order what you want, but make sure your homework’s done, ok?” 

“It’s the end of term mom, I only have finals.” 

“Right, right, habit,” she smiled, mouth painted a deep plum.  She was so pretty, “When you get back will you show me how you got your hair to stay up like that?” 

“Sure baby,” she headed towards the door, and my dad grabbed the keys.  He had everything in his pockets that they’d need. I opened the door for them, and she gave me a hug and an air kiss so that her makeup wouldn’t get mussed, “Don’t stay up too late.  We’ll be home around three.” 

My dad gave me the same tight hug he gave me every time they left, “Love you.”  

“Love you too.  Have fun storming the castle!,” I grinned at them, and they smiled back, hurrying out the door.  I closed the door behind them and locked it, then sat down in front of my show again. 

A few hours later I’d fallen asleep in front of the couch watching  _ Explorer _ when I was woken up by a news anchor’s voice.  I rubbed my eyes, looking around the dark living room in confusion.  Why was the news on? Why was it so loud? I fumbled around looking for the remote, squinting, and then I noticed what was on the screen.  

An emergency broadcast, that’s why it was so loud.  The man on the screen was standing in front of a disaster.  A fire, billowing behind him, hot and orange. The ticker below showed the headline:  _ Terrorist anilumietra followers attack the castle during crowded party _ .  

“No--,” I said, my voice strangled.  I tried to concentrate on what the news anchor was saying.  

“--Police aren’t releasing names to the public at this time, but so far there are 73 confirmed dead and 22 injured when a bomb went off earlier tonight during a First Night party for a new aidyan.”  

“NO,” I insisted at the TV.  I felt sick, my heart racing, “Apartment.”  

“Yes, Sariah?,” answered the house computer.  

“Call mom.” 

“Calling Mom,” in a second I heard the call go through over the house’s speakers.  It rang and rang and rang. My mom never set up her voicemail, and was terrible at answering her phone.  Maybe she got out, maybe she wasn’t in the room, maybe she’d found a patron and that was why she didn’t answer.  

“Hang up.  Call dad,” it did.  Ringing. Voicemail.  I had the computer hang up, “No, no, not my daddy.”  

I was almost a teenager, but I felt younger.  Tiny and vulnerable and raw. Lost. Who would make me eggtoast? Who would watch  _ Explorer _ with me? How would I learn how to do my hair? I was too young for this.  I’d always be too young for this. 

There was a loud knock on the door.  

For a second, my panic fled, until I realized that they had no need to knock on their own door.  Maybe they forgot their keys. Maybe they lost them in the chaos. Maybe...maybe...

The truth clawed at the back of my mind, but I would not let it free.  Not until something made me. I’d cling to hope and denial until the last second.  I got up and ran to the door, I wouldn’t want to make them wait too long. 

I opened the door and saw black, and for a second I was relieved.  But I didn’t see the purple of my mother’s dress, or the bright flame red of her - our - hair.  I saw silver bands on the arms of their uniforms; the silver of police uniforms. I looked up. Their faces were solemn and sad.  

This was the end of my life.  This was the beginning of another. 


	4. 5485 A.D.  - Briya, Mannonesha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is ever as simple as it seems. Briya comes into her magic as a teenager, and discovers that the rest of her life is going to be much more difficult than she expected. She makes a heartbreaking decision to protect her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teenage sex is discussed, as in...it happened off screen, but isn't depicted. There is some description of violence, too.

People ran from me, screaming.  I stepped through a flaming landscape, but the flames were mine.  The terror was of my own making. I grabbed a fleeing woman by the hair with my magic, and yanked her violently toward me.  Brilliant, shimmering magic flowed into me as her body lit up in pain. I said some words, they sounded like gibberish, they never stayed with me.  They were lost. 

A long, thin blade made of magic manifested on my hand.  I sliced her, and her pain made the magic flow into the deep void inside me.  I smiled, oh, I smiled. I sliced and I smiled and I grew more and more powerful.  When she died, I moved to the next one, and the next. The more I hurt, the more powerful I got.  It felt so clean, so pure, so good. There was no one to stop me, no one to contain my carnage. I laughed, and laughed, and laughed.  I was a god, I was--

Awake.  The dream scattered, as they always did.  When I’d been little, my mother would come into my room and comfort me until I could go back to sleep.  They’d called them night terrors, and I believed them. Eventually, I stopped waking up screaming. I didn’t ever stop having the dreams though.  They horrified me, made me sick. 

But not tonight.  Tonight was different.  I’d been with another for the first time today, and as we’d finished together the terrible knowledge left me curled in a ball in the corner, naked and sobbing while Loken watched me helplessly.  Neither of us knew what to do. 

I was a nice girl, a good girl, I didn’t deserve this.  I could find the lumietra, I could let her subvert me, I could let her take away the pain.  There was a deep, empty void inside me, and I knew that the only way to fill it was to let her overwhelm me.  I knew the stories, it had happened before. I could be safe. I was seventeen, I was too young for this. 

I’d still woke from the dream, but differently - this time I could feel the damp, cool wetness between my legs, the throbbing that made me squeeze my thighs together and wish for Loken.  I knew now that the dreams were the work of the thing I carried inside me. It was old, passed down from person to person over the millennia, just like the other one. They were impressions left on it from those before.  Impressions I thought I didn’t want, but even now, I wanted to sink back into the dream. I wanted to watch the people bleed and feel the power. 

“It isn’t fair,” I whispered into the dark of my room, sobbing against my pillow, “Why me?” 

I wondered if the girls before me wondered the same thing, or had they been happy? Had to destroyed their lives, or made everything fall into place? And what of King Caleb? How had he felt, knowing he had to rule even with this chaos inside him? What was I going to do? Even now, I thought of my parents in the other room and a small part of my brain wanted to go and harm them.  I could do it, I had the power to do it now. It would make me stronger. I could drink it down and be stronger and--

No.  They were my parents.  They loved me, they taught me, they nurtured me.  They wanted me so badly they’d waited years for me to come into their lives.  My life was about to go off the rails, and until I got hold of this thing they were in danger.  I knew, deep in the pit of my stomach, that I would eventually hurt them if I stayed. I couldn’t be trusted.  

I sat up.  I needed to leave, to protect them.  I threw back the covers and got up, crossing to the closet.  I got out my travel case and started throwing clothes into it.  I packed only what I needed. After that, I changed out of my pyjamas, tossing them in too.  I carefully opened my door and snuck out, closing it behind me. The moon was bright, the hallway filled with light from the window at the end.  My parents’ bedroom door was cracked, but they wouldn’t get up if they heard me in the hall. Midnight bathroom trips were hardly suspicious. 

I managed to get down the steps without making an undue amount of noise, and I gently laid my small case by the door.  I went to the kitchen and dug around, putting some food into a sack. They wouldn’t hear this, I watched TV down here in the middle of the night sometimes and my mom always said they slept right through it.  I took my backpack from where it lay in the entry and emptied it of everything but some paper and pens, and shoved the food and water into it. 

I turned to leave, and then stopped.  My mom’s purse was hanging from the door.  I’d need money. I hesitated, and it seems strange.  The images in my mind, what I knew I was going to do in the future, was so much worse than stealing.  Taking it so I could get away, so I could protect my family, was maybe my last true act of good. In the face of those two things it seemed a small thing.  And, yet, it felt wrong to me. 

Maybe it was because if I took that money, it would be real.  Right now, I could put everything back, go back upstairs, climb back into bed.  Maybe tell my parents what was going on. I rolled the words around in my head. How do you say ‘mom, I’m the ancient incarnation of evil, can you help me out with that?’ Bitter pain made my eyes sting.  

“Mom, I’m the anilumietra,” I whispered, “Please...please help me.”  

She couldn’t.  There was only one person that could, and if I couldn’t find her...well, it was likely I wouldn’t.  I knew what I was destined for. My worst nature, my streak of greed, my tendency to button-push, the worst parts of my intellect, my arrogance.  All of it was going to start to eclipse the good. It made me weak, and I wouldn’t be able to subvert the thing inside me. Maybe I could reign it in.  Maybe I could temper it, but I had no idea for how long. And the blood...oh...gods, the blood. I would need to cause pain to live, I had no choice, and the blood and pain...it made me want someone, anyone.  What kind of person gets turned on by violence? I clamped a hand over my mouth to quiet my sobs. 

I took the money.  

I started towards the door to leave, but I hesitated.  I imagined my mother’s panic on waking up tomorrow and finding me gone without explanation.  I couldn’t do that to her. She’d never stop looking for me, her and my dad, they’d try to find me and I needed that not to happen.  And I just couldn’t make her feel that. I ripped a page out of one of my discarded notebooks and grabbed a pen. 

_ Mom -  _

_ I’m the anilumitra.   _

_ I’m sorry.  I love you.  _

_ Please don’t follow.   _

_ ~Briya _

I left it near the coffee machine, because I know that’s what she would see first thing this morning.  Then I went back to the hall, shouldered my backpack, and carried my bag out the front door. I dug my spare key out of the backpack and locked the door.  I almost left the key behind, but on impulse shoved it back in my bag. 

The nearest transpo was about a mile away, and I walked the distance.  I paid for a ticket to the one place I knew I’d be allowed to go, and the one place I had the greatest chance of finding the lumietra: Keehlayhan.  The castle was always open to any of my kind, and I could have a place to live. I could figure out what I wanted to do. My parents were single bonded to each other, but I didn’t think I wanted that.  It might be better for me to take a diayan like most of my people. Maybe the magic would find someone for me who liked pain. 

I hurried past that spot in my thoughts, not wanting to think about it yet.  I still had a few years before I needed to choose. In the meantime, Keehlayhan was my best avenue for survival.  I stepped into the transpo and fed in my ticket. The scene outside blinked, and changed. I was in Keehlayhan before the sun rose.  

I knew exactly the moment my mother found my note.  A gush of magic, far stronger than I’d gotten from sex with Loken yesterday, flooded into me.  Pain. Pain was where my power was and, gods help me, I’d enjoyed it. 


	5. 5492 A.D. - Sariah, The Throne Room, Keehlayhan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now an adult, Sariah is about to enter the same profession her mother was in. She goes to the throne room to let the magic find her the perfect partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex, no violence. Just plot.

The sun was rising, and I was already awake, watching the first rays of it come over the wall and touch the city below.  I, like most of my kind within the city, live in the castle at the top of the hill, built into the mountain. My room is at the top of one of the many soaring grey stone towers, and from here I could see everything.  Spread out below me was the city, skyscrapers of gleaming glass and metal in the center. They’re taller than everything, taller than the great wall, Alledran. It lies to the east, hidden by buildings. They hide the view of the orange-tipped orange-tipped mountains hedging us in to the south.  They hide the old city, walled off for thousands of years, keeping its curse to itself. They say there used to be farmland near the wall, but it has long since been consumed by the press of the city. 

To the west is the ocean, vast and sparkling sapphire.  Sometimes it is angry and grey, or brown in a storm, but today it’s deep blue and beautiful.  The ships bob gently, and no waves crash over the huge jetties that make the harbor. The sentinels stand at the end as they have for thousands of years.  Our city is old, but too bustling for ghosts to find much purchase here. They can’t walk the garden streets, the rolling, growing ribbons that flow through the buildings were streets used to be.  Transpos long ago rendered vehicles unnecessary. Only the rich had them now, taking them to the Songling to play. Sometimes I wonder what the city looked like when it was flooded with cars or maglevs.  So old, and a sense of time connected me to it. I could feel the pulse of it in my veins.  _ Home _ , it whispered.  

The door opened behind me, and several young girls came in, dressed in the long, black satin gowns that marked them as aidyans in training.  I’d worn black until yesterday, but in their hands they held white. Not all bonding dresses were white, but mine was. They held in in their hands, afraid it would bite.  

“Girls, go  _ in _ the room.  Don’t just stare at her,” my best friend, Vareela, came up behind the girls and shooed them into the open space.  I looked at her and smiled, and some of the butterflies in my stomach settled. She’d been bonded yesterday, but she was single bonded to one mate, a Charian man named Gabriel.  My life was going to take a different path. It made sense, really, since she and I were as different as day and night. 

“Val,” I said, grinning.  

She came over and hugged me, “You were brooding.  I saw you, you can’t fool me.” 

“I wasn’t brooding, I was thinking.”

“That’s even worse, every time you think you plan and your plans get us in trouble.”  

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on stealing Dr. Sawyer’s book again.” 

“ _ One-thousand-and-one Ways to Make Love _ was very educational.”

“Worth every ruler smack,” I grinned.  

“To one of us at least.  Ok, girls,” she clapped her hands together, “time to begin.  And you, into the chair.” 

“Yes ma’am,” I said, sitting on my vanity chair.  It took about an hour, but Val and one of the girls managed to force my unruly hair into something resembling order, smoothing them and making them flow down my back in a river of orange and red waves.  The dress I’d chosen was an off the shoulder one, with long sleeves, a mermaid shape, and a short train. It was silk, woven thickly near the bottom and thinning towards the top. It would have been see-through, if not for the field of crystals that covered the torso.  The crystals thinned as the silk thickened - they also cleverly hid boning. When you’re as blessed as I am, structure in a dress is a requirement. It was completed by a long cape, attached to the back of the dress, that was made of white silk velvet. The only thing I wasn’t wearing was shoes.  The ceremony required us to enter unshod. I didn’t know if it was tradition or the magic, but I would follow the requirement anyway. 

“Ready?,” Val asked.  

“Yeah.  Let’s go,” I turned to the girls who’d helped me, “Thanks girls.  I’ll be sure to tell Mistress Smith what a good job you did. What are your names?”  

The shortest one, a slim girl who couldn’t be older than eleven, answered, “I’m Lucy.  This is Margaret, and Alice.” 

“Well, thank you Lucy, Margaret, and Alice.  You’ve done a good job,” I hugged them each in turn, and they left.  Val and I followed soon after. 

“Are you nervous?,” Val asked.  

I shrugged, “Some, I guess.  More curious than nervous.” 

“I wasn’t nervous either.”  

I laughed, “Well, you’ve known Gabriel for years.  For you it was a formality.” 

“You could still back out.  Find you own person.” 

“You know I don’t want to.  I’m content to let the magic find me a protector, and excited to have my first appointment,” I was, too.  Aidyans worked with people, using our bodies and our magic to make people happy. Diyans taught us how to be good at our jobs, and protected us once we started working.  They were friends, confidants, lovers - every aidyan/diayan relationship was different, and I constantly wondered what mine would be like. Some in the other provinces called us whores, but that was their jealousy.  The practice met all of our needs - physical, monetary, and emotional. Val was in a small minority that eschewed the practice. 

“I’m just checking.  I can’t imagine wanting more than just Gabe.”  

I bumped her with my shoulder, “That’s what you get for being raised by humans.”  

I’d been born to a korianan mother, but Val was one of the rare few each generation that came from human parents, “Hey now.  It’s not nice to remind me of my poor circumstances like that.” 

“I love your mom though,” my parents were dead, as was Val’s father, but her mom was alive and kicking in Ville Flue and one of the most genuinely nice people I’d ever met.  

We walked down some steps, the marble cold and hard under my bare feet, and the silk of my dress whispering behind me.  We turned into the main hallway, and I could see the cluster of women waiting at the other end. 

“This is where we part,” she hugged me again, “Good luck! Call me tomorrow with details.” 

“I will if my mouth isn’t otherwise occupied,” I grinned at her, “And thanks.  I’m really glad you were here today.” 

“Of course.”  

“Tell Gabe I said hi.”  

“I will,” she smiled and we both turned, going our separate ways.  She was going to her home, and was one of the few korianan who didn’t live in the castle.  She and Gabe lived in one of the high-rises downtown. She said they just preferred it, and I think it was because she liked being around humans.  It reminded her of home. 

I turned and joined the rest of the girls.  I knew some of them from classes, but dressed up as they were they almost looked like different people.  No one spoke, most of us too anxious to bother with conversation, we just looked at the huge, carved wooden doors and waited for them to open.  

After a few minutes, they did.  We all filed in, quiet save for the whisper of fabric and the sound of bare feet on marble.  I’d been in the throne room once or twice before, but every time I entered I was awed. It was huge and filled with a sourceless light that looked like sunlight, and it stretched away for a hundred meters towards the other end.  Tall marble pillars were spaced at five meter intervals, and they soared up into the vaulted ceiling. Banners hung between them, showing the symbols of the various houses, six on each side. It was sheathed in white marble, with the exception of the green marble fireplaces that dominated the left and right walls.  Along the walls, at around head height, ran a series of frescos depicting Danae’s life. It started behind the throne, where Danae was depicted in profile, fighting with the sword she’d taken from Charias. It continued around the room, showing her victories in the other provinces, her acts of mercy, her acts of diplomacy, her ruling, her descent into vice, her last battle against the shadowed ones, and ending with her daughter.  They stood back-to-back behind the throne, a cycle of a generation. She and I shared a surname - Teyregon - and we could have been related, for all I knew. Probably not, but it was nice to think so. 

The throne itself was ancient gold, but shined as if it were new.  It sat on a dais above us, at the end of a long, wide, red runner that went down the center of the room.  In it sat the queen. I could tell little of her features, but as we followed the path of the soft, red runner towards the throne, she became clearer.  She was taller than I was, about five-foot-nine, with light green eyes that stood out against her copper brown skin, and curling gold hair. It was so strange, it wasn’t golden-blonde, it looked like someone had taken the metal and made it into strands that she wore on her head.  Her curls were loose, almost looking light small waves, and smooth. It made the gold of her hair flicker and shine like the gold of the chair she sat in. I’d known that the royal family carried this particular gene, but I’d never seen it in person. All of her small body hairs were gold, too, and it made the light wink and shine as she moved.  The effect was startling, and intimidating. 

I looked over the banners as I stood, waiting for the others to catch up.  The bloody red rose on a black field that was for house L’Dalle, the white doe of Fluerine, the blazing fireworks of Maedelan, and all of the rest.  The twelve of them symbolized the twelve ancient houses that chose to end the run of the korianan nobility. We had a queen, yes, and she ruled this province in concert with the humans, but the only nobility at court were the ancient houses of the other provinces.  They sacrificed their power to make way for a better way of life. Each of the twelve houses fostered the Diayans, letting them live and grow and teaching them to fight and protect us. Although now the differences were mostly symbolic, the houses did tend to attract Diayans and Adiyans who possessed qualities that were similar.  All of the diayans, wherever they were waiting, came from one of these twelve houses. 

When we’d gathered around her in a semicircle, she spoke.  Her voice was rich and warm and it filled me with peace. It carried easily to all of us, “Welcome, friends. I am sure that you have all come here with many questions, as you have been told little about this ceremony.  However, even I cannot completely describe what is about to take place. The method through which you will find your match is not something that can be described to you, you must feel it. You must feel the pull of their soul, of their magic, to be connected with the person who is right for you. And so, I leave it to your discretion. You will know what to do.”

She stood and left through a side door, and we stood, looking at each other across the circle.  We heard the door close behind her, and as one of the other girls opened her mouth to ask a question, a strange mist started to form in the air.  It wasn’t coming into the hall from any particular place, but forming into clouds in mid-air. It thickened and thickened, until I could see nothing, not even the woman standing next to me or the floor under my feet.  It dampened all sound, and I couldn’t hear the other girls. 

It was cold, here.  The damp of the fog cut through me, and I hadn’t yet come into my magic.  I had no protection from it; my cape trailed behind and didn’t drape around me.  I hugged myself and started walking to get warmer, hoping I wouldn’t run into one of the other girls.  As I walked, the cold stole hope from me. It was insidious, this cold, and it penetrated to my core. I felt alone and and scared, and the feeling increased as I walked and didn’t hit a person, pillar, or wall.  I kept walking though, because eventually I must find something. 

I walked, and finally I felt warm air - but only for a second.  I stopped, and turned, backtracking until I found the small amount of warmth.  Yes, there! I stepped back into it, and took a hesitant step. The first two directions I picked took me out of the tendril of warmth, but the last kept me in it.  I followed the trail in this way, the intensity of the warmth increasing as I followed the thread of it. 

I looked ahead in the fog, squinting, and thought I could see a shadow, “Hello?” 

“Over here!,” a male voice called back to me.  It was deep, and it washed over me, tugging at things low in my body.  I noticed that I could see the bottom of my dress, and the floor of the throne room now.  I went towards the voice, and the tall shape in the fog. 

It took a minute of walking, but when he got close I could finally see him.  He was much taller than I was, my head only came to his broad chest. He was a big man, limbs roped with muscle from his time training.  He had longish magenta hair that framed his face and brushed his jawline in lazy waves. It looked soft, and my hands itched to run through it.  His skin was a light brown from hours spent in the sun, and he had dark violet eyes. I was fascinated with him, letting my eyes roam over his full mouth and strong chin.  I held out my hand, and he took it, his larger one engulfing my smaller one. 

At his touch, the current of the magic raced through us, and I knew the spell had found the right man.  He was mine, and I was his. I could feel it with every instinct I had. It was sudden and overwhelming and felt so right.  He let go of my hand to cup my face, leaning down. I had a moment of fluttering anticipation before his soft mouth found mine, and I swayed into his kiss.  

When we parted, the fog was gone, and we were in the throne room again.  The queen stood next to us. Up close, she was even more magnificent, but I found it hard to concentrate on her.  He took all my attention. 

“What’s,” I cleared my throat and tried again, “What’s your name?” 

“Ganith, of house Maedalen.” 

“Fireworks.  Appropriate,” I muttered, “I’m Sariah Teyregon.”  

His eyebrow twitched at the mention of my last name, but he gave no other reaction.  The queen reached out, touching our foreheads. She spoke words in Korianan, and I knew what they meant: ‘To protect, and love. To teach and learn. To pass on life and joy’.  The first bonding spell. Heat and warmth flowed through us, and I felt a distinct urgency to get him back to my apartment. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel it before, but the bonding spell sharpened it, made it more urgent.  

The queen removed her hand and, just like that, we were bonded.  We took each other’s hands, and rushed from the throne room. 


	6. 5492 A.D. - Sariah, The Apartment, Keehlayhan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The magic takes hold of Sariah and Ganith, and they spend their first night together. She comes into her magic, and Ganith starts to teach her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is almost entirely sex/erotica.

I didn’t remember the walk back to my room, only that it took too long for my taste.  I put my hand on the lock, and it read my palm and slide open. We tumbled inside and it slid shut behind us.  We stood in the entryway, his hands cradling my face, our mouths together. We learned each other that way, tasting and nipping.  I arched against him, wanting more. I’d wanted more for years, but held out. I didn’t want to come into my magic before I was ready to feed it.  But he was human, and he had no such need, and his training included a great many things mine had not. I would learn from him, and then he would be my greatest ally in the world.  

Right now, the magic of the binding spell was hot in our blood, and we’d be awake the entire day and night until it ran its course and we were sated.  I took his hands and drew away from him with a smile. I led him to my room. There wasn’t a lot to it, my bed and nightstands to the left, and my mirrored closet doors to the right.  A comfortable circular chair was in a corner. The only decoration was my family’s sword, hanging over the bed. He had his education, and I had mine. 

I pulled him to me by the lapels of the heavy brocade jacket he wore, “You are wearing entirely too many clothes.” 

“As are you,” he replied.  

“Let me go first, I want to take my time with you,” I let go of his jacket and ran my hands up his chest and over his shoulders, pushing the coat off and onto the floor.  I kept eye contact with him, tugging his belt out and unclasping it. It made a zipping, rushing noise as I pulled it out of his pants, grinning as I draped it around my neck.  

“Have plans for that?,” he asked. 

“I’m not sure yet, but it seems that it might be handy.  I’ve seen some  _ very _ interesting pictures in books.”  

He laughed, “Books aren’t anything like the real thing.”  

“Hmmm, well, that’s what you’re for, I think.”  

“Yes.  Too many clothes still though,” I tugged his shirt out of his pants and popped the buttons slowly, one by one.  He stood still for me, watching as I pushed it off his shoulders and pulled his heavy arms out of the sleeves, one at a time.  It joined the rest of the clothes. He tugged his own undershirt off, yanking it over his head and tossing it away. I sucked in a breath at the sight of him, running my hands over the ridges of his abdomen and chest.  God, he was beautiful. The amount of time he must spend every day to look like this. He was perfect. 

“Now the fun part,” I said under my breath.  I undid his pants and let them fall. He kicked his shoes and socks off and took his pants the rest of the way off.  I thought that maybe I should have been nervous, but I wasn’t. I was excited and wet and I wanted him. I took his boxer briefs off gently, lifting the tight band over the hardness of his cock, careful not to touch it yet.  I let the last article of clothing drop, my eyes fixed on what stood between his legs. Even that part of him was perfect, long and straight and hard. I wrapped my hand around him and he sucked in his breath. My fingers barely touched around his girth.  

“Like this,” he said, showing me how to let his foreskin roll up over the head of him, and how to twist and apply pressure in the right place.  

The edge of the bed was right behind me and I sat on it.  I didn’t want to use my hand, I wanted to taste him. There was a small bead of fluid dripping out of him and I stuck my tongue out, licking it off.  The salt taste of it melted on my tongue, and I swirled it over the head of him. I took more of him into my mouth, and down my throat. I, like others of my kind, lacked a gag reflex and I’d been taught how to breath around an object in my mouth.  He groaned as I took him into my mouth, his fingers lacing into my hair. 

I bobbed up and down on him a few times, to get a feel for it, but I was only testing the waters.  I knew that there would be times that I’d do this with him to completion, but tonight was just for fun.  I let him slide out of my mouth with a pop, and wiped my mouth. 

“You know,” he said as I stood, turning my back to him and lifting my hair, “I’ve never been with one of you.”  

“Really?,” I was surprised, “I thought it was part of your training.” 

“For some it is, but I’ve only been with other humans,” he figured out the cape and took it off, tossing it onto the chair.  The zipper on the dress came down, and I groaned in relief, and dropped my hair. Stays and tight fabrics are comfortable enough when they’re on, but they feel spectacular when they come off.  He ran his hands, warm and rough, down my arms to get the dress off of my torso. It hung from my wide hips, and he ran his hands back up my arms to my shoulders. 

Leaning down he nuzzled my neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin there, and I tilted my head to let him.  

“God,” he said, “You smell amazing.”  

He hugged me back against him, my body fitting to his.  He was so warm, and his skin felt good against mine. He use one arm to push my dress the rest of the way off my hips, and I was naked.  I’d never been naked around a man before, but I didn’t feel embarrassed by it. His cock was rock hard, trapped between our bodies, so he liked what he saw and felt.  And why not? The spell would never have led me to someone who wouldn’t want to touch me. 

On of his hands slid down my body, and he slipped a finger between my lower lips, rubbing smooth circles around my clit.  I sucked in my breath, the warm shocks of pleasure rolling through me. I gave a mumbled yes of encouragement. 

“How hard is it to make you come?,” he asked, voice low and sexy.  I could feel the rumble of it in his chest where I was pressed against him.  

“Not hard.  But I should warn you, I--,” I lost my train of thought as he added a second figure to the first, stumbling over my thoughts, “I’m m-messy.”  

“That’s not a warning, that’s a carrot,” suddenly, he picked me up and I gave a little squeal of surprise.  We didn’t go far though, he laid me on the bed on my back, laying down on his side next to me, his head held up by his bent arm.  He kissed me, busying my mouth while his free hand cupped my breasts and swirled around my tight, sensitive nipples. He broke free and said, “Open your legs for me.”  

I did, my thighs opening, and my breath coming faster in anticipation.  His hand went down, fingers trailing over my wet slit before he pushed one gently past my fat lips, sliding inside me.  A second joined it, and I groaned at the feeling of them inside me. He hooked them, pushing against that spot inside me - not that he would have needed to.  I’m extremely sensitive inside. His fingers moved, and my hips bucked and rolled with them. 

He started slow, but quickly upped his speed, his fingers making squishing noises as they moved inside me.   His head dipped down, taking one of my nipplies into his mouth, sucking and tonguing it while his fingers moved.  My thighs were shaking as, true to my word, I quickly headed towards the edge. 

“Ganith!,” I cried out as I came.  He moved his fingers out of me quickly, watching the spurts of come arc out of me.  It got all over the bed, and some even splattered the mirror. 

“Oh, yes,”  he groaned, kissing me.  He flipped me onto my back and, before the tremors had passed, thrust himself inside me with one long movement of his hips.  I had toys, and I used them often, but nothing prepared me for the feeling of having his warm, hard cock buried in me. The whole thick length of it fit perfectly, and the sweet ache of being so filled spread through my pussy.  He stayed buried deep, not moving, watching me and giving me time to adjust to the feel of it. He kissed my nose, forehead, and cheeks. Small, fluttering promises of what was to come, “I want to feel that while I’m inside you, feel you soak my skin.  The hot spurts coating me, dripping down my thighs and balls.” 

“Fuck me!,” I begged.  I needed him to move, needed to get some of this wild, writhing energy wrung out of me by the feeling of his cock pounding inside me.  I needed him to make me let go of my thoughts, to have my world just become the feel of him forcing every bit of pleasure from me. 

He held himself up on his hands, because if he didn’t, our height difference meant my face would be smothered against his chest.  He was so big, there was just so much more of him than there was of me. It was so strange the way his body felt different than mine.  I was soft curves, short and thick, my breasts big and heavy, my thighs wide, and my ass a perfect, round heart. Even my belly and arms were thick and soft - I’d been training with weapons since I was twelve, but my body stored fat.  He was hard edges, cut abs, strong arms, thighs layered with muscle, and a pronounced V leading down to the thick, hard length that I watched slide out of me, heavy and shining with my wetness. Even our skin was different, his tanned and mine a pale cream.  Big and little, hard and soft, white and brown. The contrast pulled at something deep inside me, turning me on in ways I couldn’t articulate. I realized, in that moment, this was what I liked. I didn’t want a smaller man, a shorter man. I wanted to be sheltered by his big, strong body and fucked hard with his thick cock.  I kept watching as he pushed himself back inside me. In and out, I was fascinated by seeing and feeling our bodies meet. He pushed especially deep on the next stroke and I looked away, tilting my head back and closing my eyes with a groan. 

“You like watching?,” he asked, still moving inside me.  How could his voice not sound more strained? I was trembling again, my hips rolling with his strokes.  I was holding onto him hard, my fingers digging half-moons into his skin. 

“I don’t know.  I think I might.”  

“Come for me and you can watch,” he said, as if I needed more incentive to come again.  But I thought about using the mirror to get a better angle, watching as he filled me over and over...the thought made me cry out, coming for him, my pussy camping down around him and my come splashing over us both as it flowed out of me.  I felt it dripping down the curve of my ass, “Oh, yes, that’s it. Come hard for me baby. What were you thinking about?” 

“Watching you fuck me in the mirror,” I replied.  I wasn’t willing to be shy about what I wanted. 

“Yes,” he groaned, and he pulled out of me, making me whimper at the loss of him.  I got up on his knees, and I sat up, unable to keep my hands off him. I kissed and licked his abs, following the trail of his hip muscles with the tip of my tongue.  I took him in my mouth again, licking my own wetness and come off of him, sucking him while my fingers dug into his ass, holding him in place, “Fuck!” 

I sucked him in earnest this time, watching his reactions above me.  He forgot about the mirror, hands held me, tangled in my hair, looking down at me.  I couldn’t talk, but he did plenty of that for the both of us. 

“Your mouth was made for this,” he groan, watching my full lips ringed around him.  That was a literally true statement - what are the korianan, if not built for sex? 

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Also true.  I swallowed around him while he was down my throat, and he moaned loudly.  

“I want to fuck your mouth,” I have a small nod, and the hand holding my hair became commanding.  It held me still, and his hips moved, fucking mouth and throat. I breathed when I could, drool dribbling down my chin and making a mess of my face.  The tension in my jaw made my eyes water, tears streaking out, but I didn’t care. It was hot. ‘Use me!’ My brain shouted, ‘use my mouth, use my body, make me yours, make me  _ come _ !’ 

I was so wet, I could feel it dripping out of me and down my thighs.  My clit was throbbing for want of friction and I pressed my thighs together trying to get some.  I left my hands where they were though, holding tight to him. I wanted it to be him that touched me, him that made me come.  I kept my lips tight around him, and watched him get closer and closer while I dripped wetness. 

“Fuck, Sariah!,” he shouted, pulling out of my mouth and letting me go.  He roughly grabbed me and flipped me over, and I stuck my ass in the hair, face pressed to the bed.  

My brain muttered the word please over and over again, silently begging him to be inside me again, but all that came out was one low, breathy, “Please.”  

He shoved himself inside me again and he wasn’t anything resembling gentle.  I cried out at the mingled pain and pleasure of it, wanting more and more, never wanting it to stop.  It only took a few hard strokes of that thick cock before I was flooding the bed again, but this time he came over the edge with me.  His body jerked, and his cock jerked, and he filled me with spurt after spurt of thick, white cum. 

And as he did this, as we reached communion together, the dam that held back my magic for the whole of my live burst.  Golden, warm sunshine and light filled my soul, seeping into the fissures and cracks of it, making me whole. The world burst into new awareness.  I was more sensitive than I had been moments before, more alive, more self possessed and assured. I drank it all down, laughing in pure joy as the missing part of me returned.  

I learned something else, too, in that moment.  I learned that I was the lumietra and, for me, this feeling was boundless.  I would never be full or sated or powerless. I was this generation’s bearer of the light soul.  I’d been given the gift. Tears followed the laughter, tears for the sisters that came before me, happiness that they were with me through this gift.  I was hope, I was love, I was everything in the world that was happy and good. For the moment, I kept the information to myself. It was too private to share, especially in this moment.  

I’d collapsed on the bed, him on top of me, heavy and comforting, his half-hard cock still buried in me.  He held me close, and through my giggles and tears I whispered, “It’s here.” 

“How does it feel?,” his voice was quiet and respectful, like my bedroom was holy because it’d seen this happen.  Maybe it was just us that he thought was holy. 

“Indescribable.  Like every good experience you’ve ever had, like sunlight and laughing and ecstasy and really good sex.  But it’s more, so much more.” 

“I felt a little of it,” he admitted, “I can see why people like it.  It added something extra to the moment of finishing, made me come harder.”  

I giggled and pushed my ass against him, purposely moving him inside me.  He sucked in a breath, his cock sensitive in the aftermath, “I want more.”  

I kept wiggling my ass against him and, interestingly, felt him harden again inside me.  I knew it normally didn’t happen that fast. An interesting side-effect of the spell. He held himself up off me, but kept his hips low, letting me move myself against the cock that was thickening inside me, “More of what?” 

“More of you.  All of you,” He caught me under the chin with one hand, bending my neck awkwardly, just this side of painful.  He dipped his mouth down to mine, kissing me hard, probing with his tongue, writing his intentions across my lips, leaving them raw and swollen.  Then he let me go, my head dropping to the bed. I pushed my hips up again, making it easier for him to move. 

“Do you like it like this?,” he was thrusting slowly inside, me, fully hard again.  Gods, but he was big. 

“I like it all,” I answered, breath short, “Don’t stop.  Please don’t stop.” 

I wanted to come again.  Why was it so easy? I didn’t know, and I wasn’t complaining.  I’d always been like this, but I didn’t realize how nice it would be when there was a man in bed with me to share it.  My messy orgasms turned him on, creating a sort of feedback loop of pleasure. 

He grabbed my hips and held on, and went faster, “Yes! Harder!” 

He obliged, fucking me hard and fast while my body twisted trying to match him and I made little, shallow groans.  His cock moved hard inside me, and it was all I could feel. I came for him again, covering us in mess. He fucked me through it, and I howled like a banshee, trying to get away and get closer at the same time.  I came again, seconds after the first one, and this time I screamed. My body sang with the pleasure, and I could only thing that this - this was what I wanted. I wanted to be dirty, full of cock, coming on man while he plunged in and out of me.  I was made for this. I was in love with everything and everyone, bursting with the sheer overwhelming feeling of coming and coming. More, I needed more, I wanted more. 

In a distant way, I knew some of it was the spell - the more we were together tonight, the larger my pool of magic would grow.  Although, in my case, that would happen regardless. But I was one, and most people needed their first night to be as full as possible.  This was the fire that kept my people alive, and it must stay burning. 

But it was not all the spell.  I’d chosen rightly, following my mother into this service.  The world was at peace, and it didn’t need a hero, I didn’t need to be like the other lumietras.  I needed this like I needed air, and I was going to get it however I could. Damn being a hero, I’d rather be a whore.  The next weeks would be just he and I as he taught me what he could and my abilities expanded, but then I’d need more. 

We came together again, and as before, the light filled me.  We came again, and again, and the night wore on. Sunrise found us drifting to sleep in damp sheets, tangled together, stopping out of sheer exhaustion.  


End file.
